


Drunken Phone Calls and Footie Pajamas

by jamespotter



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Break Up/Make Up, Fluff, M/M, Malec, Post City of Lost Souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamespotter/pseuds/jamespotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus and Alec both have ways of coping. It doesn't matter how or when, only that they do. But maybe their pain is all for naught. Break-up/make-up fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Phone Calls and Footie Pajamas

**Author's Note:**

> Post CoLS, One-Shot. Swearing, alcohol, non-graphic but implied sex, and one OC, andddd -scans writing- I think that's it. Happy Late Birthday, Tommy.

_One Month Before_

* * *

Magnus flopped dramatically down on his bed, sighing, and unlaced his boots. "Another day, another display of karma ass-fucking the world with a cactus."

The Chairman cocked his head. " _Mrow_?"

"Exactly," Magnus said. "Now where, faithfully, is my Alexander?"

"I'm in the bathroom!" called the voice that had been ringing through his head all day. "But I'm not coming out yet. Your words are too crude for my virgin ears."

"Darling," Magnus purred, "we are both expertly aware that your ears, as well as many other bits and pieces, are far from virginal."

There was a scoff and the door swung open. A cloud of fog spilled out, and Alec stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, dark hair plastered to the back of his neck and forehead. His eyes were bright and bottle-blue, happier than most days with his grin a little too wide, a little too crooked.

Magnus whistled.

Alec leaned down to press a kiss to his lover's lips. Magnus knotted his hands in his dark locks in an attempt to make the kiss last longer, but Alec made a noise in the back of his throat somewhere between a moan and a breathy protest and pulled back

"Magnus, I'm in a towel."

He smiled. "Even better."

"No—I mean—I'm wet."

He smiled wider. "I know."

Alec laughed softly. "You know what I mean."

Magnus sighed and let his head drop back. "Pray tell me," he said, exasperated, "what is the point of keeping you around if I can't have a satisfying make-out session at my leisure?"

"Because you love me."

"Ahh, yes. My  _hamartia_. My fatal flaw."

"That and I cook you breakfast in the morning."

Magnus stood up and hugged Alec from behind while the shorter boy rummaged through their dresser for something to wear. Most of the Shadowhunter's clothes were patchy black or gray, rarely anything brighter than white, and nearly all leather except a sweater or two. After a few attempts at spicing up his wardrobe and one horrific incident with the bedazzler, Alec started to hide the clothes he liked most from Magnus's clutches.

"What would I do without you?" Magnus asked, his nose pressing into the juncture where his shoulder met his neck. Alec smelled like a shampoo, wool, and something distinctly flowery from his shower.

"You'd manage."

* * *

_The Moment_

* * *

_Aku Cinta Kamu._

Yeah. Right.

* * *

_Two Months After_

* * *

Alec set down the glass of amber liquor and fished through his side bag. His vision was slightly hazy, so finding his phone took a long time. He could hear the hammer of his own heart, erratic in the carcass of his chest.  _Bu-dum—bu-dum—bu-dum-da-dum—bu-dum._

 _When he hears how much I miss him, he'll have to take me back,_  Alec thought grimly, a flutter of hope running through him. His breath was loud, and he shivered, the cold night-time air hugging him a little too snugly.

The phone ran twice before Magnus picked up. He sounded tired but happy. "Hello?"

"Magnus?" Alec said.

Were those voices in the background? Music?

Magnus sighed through the phone. "Alec, this has to stop."

"Are you having a party?" Alec asked, voice shaking slightly. He didn't know why, but the prospect of Magnus having a good time while they had just split up a month ago seemed almost hurtful, and throwing a party!? He hadn't always been the most open boyfriend a party-addicted warlock could ask for—Alec always locked himself away in the bathroom for the entirety of every gathering they hosted, much to the anger of Magnus who wanted to show him off to clusters of creatures who were always too far gone to care regardless. Was that why Magnus left him? To throw get-togethers without worrying about Alec hiding away somewhere?

"Alec, you're drunk; stop calling. Where even are you? I hear car horns."

Alec ignored the first part. "I'm in front of the Institute, getting some air. Magnus, do you love me?"

"I'll always love you, Alexander, but not the way I did. Go to bed, you're going to get hurt."

"I'm already hurt!" Alec protested.

Had he been in his right (sober) mind, he would have never admitted this to anyone. Isabelle had started to watch him more closely, hiding the liquor from the cabinet and checking in on him when he stayed in his room too long. When he wasn't staring up at his ceiling vacantly, he was training, taking out his energy or working off his hangover from the night before. Alec had never been broken up with, but then again, he'd never been in love either. A lot of his life stayed the same after the split. He still trained at the Institute every morning, he still nearly killed himself attacking demons and scolding downworlders, he still yelled at Jace for being stupid or Izzy for being promiscuous. Alec, however, did not focus on those things as much as the differences. He no longer woke to Magnus lovingly nuzzled against the nape of his neck or Chairman Meow laying down on his chest. He no longer spent the holidays wrapped around Magnus in a tangle of limbs and a labyrinth of veins so complicated and so connected in ways that no one dared to separate them. Now he woke up after a nightmare to find the other side of his bed cold and his body heavy. The alcohol took away the pain that pounded in his head but was also the factor that brought it on.

"I said, go to bed, Alec."

He tried not to think as the phone line went dead.

* * *

_Two Months and Five Hours After_

* * *

When all of the people were flushed out of his apartment, Magnus cleared a spot on his bed and curled up. He wore a pair of blue footie pajamas and sipped his hot chocolate, feeling like a total wuss. What was he doing, thinking he could throw a party and not get emotional? It was too early, too tender to start looking again. No one was even hot enough, and then Alec had called and he didn't know what to do other than push everyone out of his home and get his shit together.

But he knew how to deal with losing someone he loved. He had to carefully remind himself that it wasn't so much losing as it was throwing away, since he was the one to break it off.

Because Alec was talking to Camille.

Camille, who was now dead.

And Alec, who was now calling nightly, completely shit-faced and openly expressive, begging for forgiveness and love and everything that Magnus didn't know how to give anymore.

* * *

_Two Months and Twelve Hours After_

* * *

Alec stared at the man in front of him. He had light brown hair, big hazel eyes, and small, almost unnoticeable freckles gracing his nose and cheeks. A bright smile adorned his face.

"Tommy," the man said. "You?"

"Alec?" he huffed, as if it were a question.

Tommy stood on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed in his leather jacket. A book was cradled under his arm with two knives crossed together on the cover. Alec recognized the weapon—a machete—because he had four of them hanging on pegs back in the Institute.

Alec had not expected to run into anyone on the way to the bookstore, but there Tommy was, all cheery smiles and expectant glances, asking if he could "help, even thought I don't work here, I know it pretty well."

"I just wanted to pick up the new book," he explained, showing Alec the cover."It's my favorite series. Just came out the other day, and I wanted to beat my friend. She always reads faster than I do."

"Oh, yeah?" Alec asked. His breath was catching. He could still feel the hangover from last night pressing against the back of his eyes, but he didn't care. Tommy, for some inconceivable reason, looked happy, like nothing in his life could ever bother him. Alec felt the need to get closer, only to see how this was possible. "What's it about?"

Tommy colored. "Well—well, it seems stupid, but, uh, it's about demons."

Alec cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm not a devil worshiper, I swear," Tommy said quickly. "It's just about this family that hunts down demons and puts them in their place, keeps the world in order. I know it's weird, but—"

"No," Alec interrupted. "I don't think it's weird. What's the name?"

* * *

_Two Months and One Week After_

* * *

Alec had not thought about Magnus in three days. Nope. Not at all. Not one bit. He didn't think about Magnus's hands or his gold-green eyes, or the way that he always seemed to shed glitter everywhere he went, making the world a little more beautiful.

Isabelle always used to tease him after coming home from a night with Magnus, saying he looked like a fairy, and that if they were going to sleep together, they could at least get in the shower afterwards. After that, Alec had started getting covered in glitter on purpose—

But he wasn't thinking about Magnus. Nope. Not at all. Not one bit.

Instead he took Tommy out to the cinema. He turned out to be a fan of every series, from Harry Potter to Doctor Who, from demons to assassins, from superheroes to supervillians. They saw every Marvel movie in one night and afterwards spent the evening in some internet café in a God-Know's-Where back road town, and Alec didn't have a clue as to how to get home, and neither of them seemed to care.

"I actually just got out of a relationship," Tommy said. "My ex, Tyler, was… just a real dog, you know?"

Alec thought of some spikey-haired warlock with no name in particular throwing parties in a loft with lots of booze and dancing and sex. He swallowed hard. "I know what you mean."

"I'm almost glad I broke it off, though," he said, "I didn't realize how much I was missing."

Alec set down his fork, and they stared at each other for a long time. He had been so memorized by the Mundane, staring at him for long periods of time when he thought no one could see. He tried to engrave the way he looked in his memory, the arch of his eyebrow, the bow of his lip, the curl of his eyelashes, every curve and plane of his face forever branded somewhere in his mind.

And then somehow they were kissing, and Alec's hair was tangled in the back of his hair, and Tommy's hands were clutching the collar of his shirt, and it was sugary and blissful and easy, the soft movement of lips sliding against lips—

And Alec wasn't ready. He pulled back and caught his breath, willing himself not to break down. Tommy's hair was askew from how he grabbed it, and his face was slightly pink in the cheeks. He blinked.

"I—um—"

"I have to be at home," Alec said hastily, and they both headed for the car.

* * *

_Two Months, One week, and Three Days After_

* * *

The air seemed to get heavier as Alec sat in the conference room, his father's stiletto glare boring holes into his eyes. It was the first time he would see Magnus in months, the first time he'd have to stand for hours in close proximity and pretend like all those nights they'd shared together did not happen, like his words, lips, hands meant nothing—like  _he_  meant nothing.

"Why is this necessary?" Alec asked softly. "Why him?"

"He's the only warlock in the area that won't tax us as much."

"He'll probably tax you more now," Alec laughed bitterly. "I mean, did you even think this one through, of how I would feel about this?"

"This isn't about you," Robert snapped. "This is about keeping the Institute open, making sure that my life's work isn't flushed down the toilet just because my son is acting like a shy, prepubescent school girl rather than the eighteen-year-old master Shadowhunter that he is."

Alec gritted his teeth. He sat still, slumped almost, as members of the Clave started pouring in, one by one, and taking their seats. He fixed his hair in the reflection of his phone and set it down quickly before Magnus finally entered.

He was not clad in his usual wardrobe. Instead, his face was its natural gold, hair down and falling into his face, and clothes of simple black robe like the rest of the members. Alec noticed how his eyes landed on him for a few seconds before lingering elsewhere.

Alec had stopped calling Magnus in his drunken state ever since he found other company, but he wondered in the back of his mind how he would react if he found out Alec had spent more time wrapped around Tommy in those days then the last month with Magnus.

At the end of the presentation, Robert Lightwood grunted. "Thank you, Mr. Bane."

"Don't thank me until you've heard the price," Magnus retorted before backing out the room to perform the necessary spells around the Institute, something about renewing the protective wards now that they were slowly fading away from the old church Mundanes saw.

The members were milling around as Alec stealthily made his exit unnoticed. He was not surprised to see Magnus standing there expectantly.

"I knew you'd come outside," he said offhandedly.

"I knew you would be waiting there for me," Alec shot back. "I'm sorry for calling you so much."

Magnus shifted awkwardly—Alec didn't even know that Magnus  _could_  be awkward—and mumbled, "I didn't mind."

This was the part where they were supposed to split their separate ways, the part where Alec would get closure and finally move on to his new life with Tommy, where he would take the break up with acceptance and the credits would roll, and no one would care anymore what happened to the lives of Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane. He had expected it to be like this.

But instead, Magnus said, "I've missed you."

He didn't even bother to hide the desperation in his voice as Alec said, "I've missed you… more."

Not too; not also.  _More._  Angel, why had he said that?

At this, Magnus seemed to regain his confidence. "I needed to tell you… I left some of my clothes here with you."

He was aware of the few shirts that hung in his closet, but he had hoped Magnus would forget about them so he could have them as a keepsake of his first love, something worth remembering. With this news, Alec sighed and pursed his lips. "Follow me, then."

They made their way to Alec's room, which was as clean and orderly as always. Had Magnus seen it a few weeks ago, littered with chocolate wrappers and bottles of Bailey's, Alec didn't know what he would have done.

"You know where they are."

Magnus pulled open the closet and plucked his clothes out with clever fingers, and Alec had to shake himself to not stare at the way his hips moved or the dance of his hands.

"You know," he said. "It seems a shame that I'm taking these down now, when I could just leave them here and get them some other time. They do look so lovely on you."

"Lovely?" Alec said faintly, head whirling.

Magnus turned around. He had a Cheshire smiled gracing his face. "I've been thinking that maybe I was a bit irrational."

"Irrational," Alec breathed.

"And I was thinking maybe I should talk to you about it."

"Talk… to me…" He shut his mouth, realizing the only component he added to the conversation was repeating whatever Magnus said. "What… what brought this on?"

He paused. "I found one of your old textbooks wedged between the bookshelf and the wall. I took it out, and later that night a guest at one of my parties spilled wine all over the pages, so I went out and bought a new one, and I thought,  _why am I doing this_? You didn't know I had the book; you didn't need to know about the wine. Why was I even bothering? I was bothering because I love you."

"So you want to talk?" he asked.

"Yes," Magnus said airily. "I want to talk."

But there would be no talking done, because before they could, they fell into a knot of limbs and clothes and heat, something entirely new but not at all foreign. It was like magnets at first, as if seeing who would cave and propel forward, but in the end, Alec couldn't remember who had succumbed only that they had. He'd always marveled at the fact they fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, manufactured to work in a way they'd never fall apart, or at least not again.

It would be hours before either of them processed what happened.

It would be hours before they actually talked out what they needed to.

It would be hours before Robert Lightwood barged into the room asking why no work had been achieved.

It would be hours before Alec would call Tommy and tell him, that despite how  _fucking perfect_  the boy was, he wasn't Alec's.

It was hours before any of that. And a lot can happen in an hour.


End file.
